


Proof of Life

by vinegardog



Category: Farscape
Genre: F/M, Humor, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinegardog/pseuds/vinegardog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John "misfires"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proof of Life

As always the characters are not mine. Apologies to John Crichton but I like this version of things way better. Some lines are quoted directly from the episode.

Rated – PG-13 - there is no sex or bad language but the general subject matter calls for this rating. I really tried to be as inexplicit as possible for my own comfort more than yours!

Word count – about 3100

Warning: First time for me to write Harvey (which normally scares me) - no idea how he came out. Just for the purpose of this fic, I had John call him Harvey a little earlier than in the actual show (I believe that happens in WGFA just after the trilogy takes place) - I hope you will forgive the liberty taken.

Setting: Set during the Look at the Princess Trilogy – S2.

Thanks to A Damned Scientist for the challenge and for the beta.

**Proof of Life (PG-13)**

“Just a little tingling in the hands and feet. I am good to go.”

That was a bare-faced lie.

He felt rotten. His head was woozy, his tongue felt like it had swelled up to at least twice the size a human tongue should be and grown a thick velvety fuzz to boot and his legs… well his legs seemed to have lost all muscle and bone and turned into jelly. Jelly of the same wobbly consistency of the colourful, tasteless, see-through-ish stuff you were given as dessert when bed-bound. The stuff you tended to play around with and put back down untouched on the tray. The roll-away type of tray you found in hospitals. A hospital. Now that was a thought! A hospital sounded like a wonderful idea to his befuddled, wandering brain. Clean, crisp sheets, peace and quiet, a pretty nurse taking care of him. ‘How pathetic has your life become, John, when a stint in hospital starts to sound more appealing than a surfing vacation in Hawaii?’ He thought to himself while shaking his head for the fourth time in as many minutes in a further attempt to clear it. All that that accomplished however was for the cobwebs in his brain to waft about and intertwine into an even thicker curtain of confusion. God! What had they done to him? Would he ever feel human again? He snorted to himself. Being human out here had not exactly proven a bed of roses so he had no idea why he would wish for it now… other than the fact, of course, that being human was all he knew how to be!

The clipped, precise voice of Jenavian Charto, Peacekeeper, Special Directorate addressed him again and sobered his giddy, drifting thoughts for a moment: “Too late. Animals are carnivorous after dark.”

But of course they were! Why wouldn’t they be? Murphy’s law – the one inescapable law that had ruled his world since the fateful Farscape 1’s test flight - dictated that they would be! ‘Colour me surprised!’ He thought and snorted to himself once again before forcing his mind to focus for long enough to formulate an answer:

“Animals. Okay. Fine. First light. I have people to protect.”

Chiana, D’Argo, Rygel. His people. When had a Nebari, a Luxan and a Hynerian become that? There was no way he could pinpoint the exact moment he had started thinking of them as that but that, nevertheless, they had become.

He needed to find them, he needed to make up a plan, he needed to give Scorpy the slip and somehow get them all safely off this planet because, now that he had gone through becoming a pigeon perch once, he really didn’t want to go back through it all ever again. Nuh hu! It had taken… what? All of a few hours to lose his head! What were the chances then of him lasting 80 cycles intact? And besides, did he really want to last 80 cycles as a statue, even if an intact one? What had he been thinking? He had panicked - that’s what - panicked like he had never panicked before and given into his fears and weariness. He had rationalised it all out and talked himself into believing that a loveless marriage preceded by a long spell as a garden gnome was something acceptable, even desirable in ways. Well, he had been wrong and he should have listened to her. He purposely refused to conjure up in his mind the two short syllables of her name and instead forced himself back to his original thought: he needed to get to his people and make sure that they all made it out of here safe. Easier said than done, Johnny boy!

First thing first: before they could high-tail it out of this wretched place, they had to find a way to communicate with Moya and hope that Pilot and Zhaan would be back in time to whisk them off of it. But where in hell had they got to? He wondered if, by now, D and Pip had managed to make contact with them. He refused to believe that they had just upped and abandoned them all. No. There had to be another explanation. They had to be trying to get back here and maybe - no, not maybe, probably! - they had already made it back into orbit. Yeah, that was what he had to do: he had to keep positive or he’d lose his mind… whatever was left of it. Another shake of the head failed, yet again, to dissipate the chaos filling it and, instead, sneakily and traitorously it only accomplished to weaken his determination not to think of her. Like stealthy thieves, images of her face stole past the barriers he had so carefully built and, mercilessly, picked all his mental locks open one by one. Her name flashed up, as vivid as a neon sign, lighting up his brain like a 4th of July firework display.

Aeryn.

And there she was in all of her glory!

Aeryn.

Where was she? Was she still on the planet? Was she safe? Was she thinking of him?

Aeryn.

Aeryn, who had gone AWOL and missed his wedding against his expressed wishes. That had hurt like hell.

He was not new to pain. He had been through plenty of it when Scorpy had strapped him to his kinky, demonic chair. But that had been a different kinda pain: it had had almost killed him and the subconscious memory of it sometimes still made him wake up with a start, sweaty and shaky in the middle of the night. But it had also been the type of pain he could steel himself against and endure if he really had to – not that he would wish to ever again, mind you, but still…

Aeryn’s desertion though had hurt in ways more complicated than that. It had hurt in a gut twisting, throat constricting, heart-pounding way. He had wanted - no, not just wanted, needed! - her silent strong presence to support him in what felt like the Kafkaesque-nightmare start of the rest of his life… and she had not been there. For the first time since he had met her, Aeryn Sun had not been there for him when he had needed her the most and it had made him feel lost and angry and … and bereft. And here was another million dollar question he couldn’t have answered if he tried: when had she become his one constant, his guide, his point of reference? The reason to wake up in the morning and the reason he could go asleep at night hoping tomorrow would be a better day than today?

Although if he really was truthful about the whole thing - and why couldn’t he, John Crichton, just for once lie to himself like most people did to get through life? He really didn’t have the right to feel that way about her disappearing act. She had twice confronted him and twice exhorted him to rethink his hare-brained decisions, but oh no he had known better and twice he had driven her off. Well done, a razzie award to the human genius in the corner!

Oh hell, now his head hurt even worse and his heart was starting to unbearably ache all over again too.

“As I must mine. Can I trust you?” Jena’s voice once again dragged him back to the present.

‘Mine...what?’ He wondered for a moment before catching up again to the conversation they had been having in the middle of his maelstrom of musings and reflections. Oh, yeah… their people. But why was she talking about trust? Had he done anything to make her think him untrustworthy?

He felt a wisp of misplaced anger flare in his gut at her question. He took a long breath and paused for a second before his mouth could run away with him as it too often did. His anger towards her was unjustified. Jenavian had, after all, saved his life by first re-attaching his head and by then bringing him out here to relative safety, so why did he feel like snapping at her? Well, there had been the small matter of the stiletto blade at his throat. That had not been pleasant, but, sadly, it had also not been the worst thing that had happened to him, not by far, at least not since his arrival in this enchanted land far, far away from home.

Jena had her agenda, her mission, her career as a Peacekeeper spy, her own life to protect and, with just one word at the wrong time or to the wrong person, he could easily put an end to all of those combined, so her reservations were more than reasonable. He bit his tongue, reined in the cutting remark that had sprung to his lips and wearily just muttered back:

“Oh yeah, I am a regular boy scout. I do what I have to do.”

“And I assume you do it well.” She countered and let her statement hover in between them, the silence stretching heavy and laden with what by all accounts was a good measure of innuendo.

Uh, oh! Damn! His head was still a confused vortex of random thoughts and maybe, just maybe, he was reading all of it wrong but, unless things were radically different with women in this part of the galaxy, THAT was more than a hint of smoky seduction in her voice! ‘Nah, John!’ He tried to reason with himself. ‘The woman manhandled and almost filleted you no longer than 20 minutes ago. No way! She ain’t coming on to you!’ This finally confirmed it: he was either losing his mind for good or he needed to get laid... and pronto. Too tired to fight for focus, he let himself idly wonder if it might be scientifically possible for bodily fluids to build up in a human body to such an extent that your ears got severely impaired and tricked you into hearing fanciful things.

However before he could reach the conclusion that, physiologically speaking, such a phenomenon was probably unlikely, his attention was forcibly wrenched back to the here and now. Whatever doubts had been twirling around in his head were promptly dispelled when long, tapered fingers brushed, gently at first, along the inseam of his thin satin red pyjamas pants - the most inadequate of barriers in such a situation John noted with wary dismay - then cupped his precious family jewels and applied pressure in what, undisputedly, could be considered a firm, well-practiced squeeze.

John Crichton manfully yelped. Surprise and a small touch of anxiety vied evenly for dominance in his head. Was that stiletto blade still tucked up in her sleeve and more importantly, was it firmly secured shut? He could see the headlines if he ever made it back home to Earth: “John Crichton, astronaut and eunuch returns from the dead!”

“Em… er… be… be careful, will ya! You… er… are handling delicate and valuable things down there… um... things I’m quite fond of!” He managed to choke out before his eyes followed with nonplussed fascination her other hand sneak under his tight black tank top to brush and knead against his lower belly and slowly upwards over his abs, its focused mission being, without any doubt, to tease and arouse.

He wanted to laugh and he wanted to cry at the absurdity of the situation. He wanted to damn it all to hell and pounce on her. He wanted to lie down and go asleep only to wake up back in his Florida apartment and find out that it had all been a psychotic drug-induced dream after a particularly wild party at DK’s. He wanted her to be a raven haired somebody else. He wanted to be a gentleman and let her down easy. He wanted… John looked down and shuddered in apprehension when the reality of things dawned on him. What he really wanted was for his brave little soldier to raise its head and show some interest, because - no matter what else he might ideally want - what he really DIDN’T want was to realize that what Jena was doing to him right then with both of her talented hands and with admirable dedication to the task, was provoking absolutely NO reaction. Not even the smallest of stirrings, nothing, zilch, nada. It was a total eclipse of the sun, a lap rocket mission fail!

Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he concentrated hard to raise life where life would normally flourish under this high level of stimulation. But… nope! Still nothing, not a twitch! A tiny, distressed moan escaped his lips and his eyes flew to Jena’s face, which, in turn, was starting to be marred by a puzzled and frustrated frown. Silently he willed her on, suddenly wholeheartedly supportive of her quest for a successful ending to her ministrations.

And, surprisingly, he was not alone in desiring Jena’s triumph.

Harvey – for once unexpectedly going along with his wishes – danced perkily into his brain dressed in a mini-skirt, tight top, high socks and with a blonde wig styled in twin ponytail bunches sitting prettily on his head. He cheered Jena on by shaking phallic shaped pom-poms around with the greatest of enthusiasm. His rhythmic, rhyming chants exhorted her on to success with unfailing glee and, in truth, John could not have faulted the hybrid’s dedicated commitment to the cause.

After what felt like 10 minutes of wild and unbridled cheerleading though, it was becoming painfully clear that Harvey, just like John and Jena, was miserably failing in bringing about positive results.

Huffing and puffing with exertion, Harvey finally stopped jumping around, bent his skinny legs at the knees, braced his hands against them, tried to catch his breath and, panting, expressed his dire opinion on the situation: “John, I think we have a serious problem!”

“No, we don’t, Harv! Shut up and keep cheering!” John snapped, unwilling to accept the obvious truth.

“But, John, be reasonable. The girl has been trying her very best! I would go as far as to say that she has gone well beyond the call of duty. Mind you, I have no idea why she might be so dogged in her misguided attempt but dogged, nevertheless, she has been! She deserves a medal, if you ask me… and all things considered a medal would be a much better reward even if you managed to un-shrivel your …”

“Harvey! Just shut up! Shut up and let her work! You of all people should know that Peacekeepers don’t know the meaning of failure when on a mission and she’s on a mission, so just give her a chance to successfully complete it!”

“John, you are deluding yourself. There is no pointy tool in that tool-box, not a drop of fuel in the tank, not the smallest spark in the lighter’s flint, no stiffness in the drink, no…”

“I get it! You don’t need to go on and on about it, Harvey, I get it! But I’m telling you, just… just… give her another minute and things might… no - strike the ‘might’ - things WILL … look up! Your negativity is only making things worse, so gimme a break!”

Harvey shook his head in that condescending way of his that expressed utter despair at John’s obstinate stupidity and sat cross-legged on the ground, pom-poms now lying discarded beside him.

“The machine that turned you into a statue most likely damaged you for life. I’d wager my own life on it, John.” Then with what meant to be a jolly, encouraging tone of voice he continued: “But the good thing about this is: you really have had very little use for it lately, so why worry? Let’s concentrate on more important matters like…”

“There are NO more important matters than this, Harv! NONE!“ John shouted close to hysteria. “I know I haven’t been using it nearly as much as I’d like… ok, not even in the region of close to nearly as much as I’d like… but I won’t accept that this is it. I won’t! The old boy did NOT just send me a ‘Dear John” letter, no way! This is just a glitch, an aberration, and odd and unique occurrence!”

Harvey shrugged. “Unique, you say? Fine, John. Continue fooling yourself. You truly are stubborn. When you finally come around and accept that this is the end of your pathetic, almost non-existent sex life, I will be here ready to discuss more interesting and exciting things.” And in a puff of smoke cheerleader- Harvey disappeared leaving John to deal with the horrifying, but all too real, possibility that he might indeed be looking at a permanent loss.

To add insult to injury, the conversation that had just taken place in his head only served to pour icy water on an already only too absent flame, and, before too long, resulted in Jena giving up on her undertaking with a disgusted grimace and a disgruntled huff. Her hands abruptly left his body to go rest on her hips in what could only be described as an indignant posture and her eyes fixed him with a mixture of derision and annoyance.

“I… um… I… sorry about that!” John stammered, humiliation turning his cheeks to scarlet.

“Is this a common failing for the males of your species? It’s a wonder you are not extinct!” She sniped before walking off, apparently no longer too worried about dangerous animals roaming around in the darkness.

John Crichton - the best advertisement for human virility Earth managed to send out into the universe. Watch out, VLA*, before long alien babes will be coming a-knocking on Earth’s doors in their droves in search of thrills! Power up the radio telescopes and lay out the welcome mat!

John hid his face in his hands and whimpered.  
_____________________________

Two days later – although it felt more like a lifetime later – John leaned against the inside of his module rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb and watching the radiant and bare-footed Aeryn Sun walk away from him and out of the cargo bay.

The electric, gentle touch of the tip of her tongue against the tip of his own; a tentative, moist, experimental kiss and the sweet, sweet taste of molasses. That’s all it took to vanquish the fears that had choked him for the last 48 hours since his abysmal failure with Jena.

Now alone, grin widening into a full smile, John Crichton bent his head, beheld the very evident proof of life springing up under his belt and murmured with giddy relief: “Hey, Krull my Warrior King, you had me worried there for a while. Welcome back to daddy!”

 

The end

*VLA = Very Large Array, one of the world’s premier astronomical radio observatories located in New Mexico


End file.
